All Chapters of The Crippled Masked Alpha : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

[Anya’s POV]The air in the dungeon level of Thorne Manor was thick with cold and the metallic tang of old fear. Alaric walked ahead, his Beta frame a silent shield, leading me deeper into the fortress's underbelly. I kept my hand pressed to the silver locket Ronan had given me, focusing not on the chill, but on the cold, pure purpose of my mission: information to save Devon.The security around the cells was immense, a heavy, automated door sliding open with a soft hiss before revealing the prisoner.Caleb.He was shackled to the stone wall, his handsome face marred by shadows and a fading bruise near his eye. He was stripped of his fine Beta clothes, wearing only coarse prison cotton, and he looked smaller, weaker. But the moment his eyes, those familiar, lying brown eyes, found mine, the old smugness flickered back."The Alpha's new pet," Caleb sneered, pulling against the chain with a desperate clatter. "Did Ronan finally tire of your games and send you to me for a bit of sport?"

​[Anya’s POV]​My new life was a constant, exhausting performance played out across two stages. By day, I was the intellectual saboteur, locked in Ronan’s magnificent, silent library, pouring over the complex financial ledgers. By night, I was the grieving Luna, confined to my suite, feigning despair for the listening device hidden in the ventilation shaft and the staff who watched my every move.​The exhaustion was a cold, constant ache behind my eyes. I was sleeping perhaps three hours a night, the weight of the dagger Ronan had given me, now tucked beneath my mattress, a physical reminder of the war I was fighting. I hated the lie, but I was motivated by a cold, surgical hatred for my father, Alpha Vesper, and the singular purpose of saving my brother, Devon.​I spent the daylight hours in the Archives, my mind sharp and relentless. My hands, once accustomed to the rough work of logistics, now handled parchment and pen with precision, meticulously tracing the subtle, hidden rot Ves

​[Alpha Ronan Thorne’s POV]​The security logs displayed the standard, monotonous churn of activity at the perimeter: a few deer breaching the fence line, a minor fault in a western surveillance camera. I was seated at my desk with Alaric, going through the minutiae designed to bore any listener, when Alaric retrieved the massive leather ledger. He casually flipped it open, scanning for the coded instructions I’d left him.​He didn't find the coded response to Vesper I expected. Instead, his eye snagged on a small, folded piece of Shadow Pack stationery tucked deep within the spine. Alaric’s composure, usually granite-like, fractured for a split second.​He handed me the slip of paper. The handwriting was cramped, precise, and utterly unrecognizable. But the words were a punch to the gut: Project Solstice. Now. Ronan's Study.​"Alpha," Alaric whispered, his voice tight with controlled alarm. "She knows. She used the ledger to pass us a warning."​"Clear the schedule," I commanded, alr

[Alpha Ronan Thorne’s POV]The decision was final. We were hitting the coast. The final twenty-four hours were a blur of cold, efficient preparation, transforming Thorne Manor from a gilded prison into a silent, lethal command center. I stood with Alaric and Anya in the command room, the map of Salthaven illuminated before us. The time for the "crippled Alpha" lie was over; the time for action was upon us."We move in at midnight, during the tide change," I commanded, my focus absolute. "Anya has confirmed the foundation of the lighthouse is compromised. Vorlag will be installing the permanent water control mechanism, believing he is protected by the disabled sensor array Vesper arranged."Alaric looked at Anya, who was meticulously organizing gear. "She's Vesper's daughter, Alpha. Even with the obsidian band, the risk to her personal safety is too high. This is a battle zone.""The risk is calculated," I insisted, my voice brooking no argument. My gaze hardened, accepting the ugly ne

​[Alpha Ronan Thorne’s POV]​The bunker reeked of stale air, rust, and Caleb's sheer terror. I stood in the doorway, my tactical lights cutting through the darkness, the primal fury that had seized me on the coast still a low, dangerous rumble beneath my skin. Seeing Caleb's hands clamped onto Anya's ankle, seeing the absolute vulnerability of my Luna, had shattered the strategic Alpha’s composure. I had abandoned the lighthouse, compromised the entire assault, and risked the success of Project Solstice. The price of saving her life was the immediate failure of the water mission. I accepted the cost without hesitation.​Caleb was silent, frozen in the glare, his eyes wide with a coward’s understanding of true power. He knew I was no longer the crippled Alpha; he knew he was facing the Night God.​I didn't waste ammunition on him. I didn't waste a single word. My aim was steady, trained on the iron shackle secured to the concrete wall that still bore the marks of his frantic escape.​C